Aravir sat up straight. The cry, "Attack!" pierced the night as the company slept. He could see the others get up and draw their weapons, some with bows. As the first orcs entered the firelight, they were shot down by the archers. Others fell with mortal sword wounds.
Aravir drew his sword. As he did so, he heard a snarl behind him. He turned to see one of the most hideous orcs behind him brandishing a scimitar. It charged and raised its weapon. As Aravir blocked its blow, he saw the it wore orc mail around its chest and arms, but none around the neck. Aravir kicked its feet out from under it and shoved his sword into its neck.
He looked around. It seemed as if everybody was able to handle himself. Nobody was having too much trouble. Seeing a gap in the line, Aravir ran and plugged it. He got there just in time, because two orcs ran for the spot. He finished them off.
Where could this band of orcs come from? he thought. The most likely source he could think of was Dol Goldur. That place should be finished off once and for all.
The orcs seemed to be getting less and less as the company slowly defeated them.
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In nomini domine saboath sui filique ite ad infernos.
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